


Blessed are the wicked

by yuyunismist



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad Dirty Talk, Church Sex, Deepthroating, Demon Sex, Demons, Exorcist Yunho, M/M, Mild Smut, Painplay, Priest Yunho, Probably inacurate religious imagery and symbolism, Rough Sex, Sex Demon, Short One Shot, Torture, Twisted, Violence, for real, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 23:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuyunismist/pseuds/yuyunismist
Summary: Yunho's a exemplary priest by day, a dreadful exorcist by night and an incubus owner in the hours remaning in between.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Blessed are the wicked

**Author's Note:**

> At attempt at sexy stuff was made lmaoooo  
> I wrote it quickly, please don't take it too seriously. Hope it's still alright.  
> I don't know how explicit the torture is to some, so in case, if you're not comfortable, do not read.

“Fuck, they were right about you, you’re a sick bastard,” the words are spoken roughly, followed by a shrill cry. It resonate in the empty church hall, its echo similar to the one of a rite during the morning mass.

“They?” A voice taunts. “Oh, have I become a hot topic?”

The priest steps closer, the black suit spotless despite the mess on the ground. He circles the chair; the demon tries to follow the movement, but the ropes are a restrain.

“It’s flattering,” He adds with a low chuckle.

“Flattering,” the demon spits his blood at the priest’s clean shoe. “Won’t be when they come out for your throat, Jeong Yunho.”

Yunho tilts his head, amused. “Did you know that baby?”

He turns his head toward the communication table located in the centre of the church; where the holy artefacts are conventionally exposed. Deep purple eyes stare up at him; the colour is vibrant. It reminds Yunho of the shade of a nebula and it would paint a poetic picture, if that magenta did not embody a demonic soul.

If demons even had soul, that is.

It’s an angelic vision; a lithe body lay bare where the chalice should be. Yunho can shamelessly appreciate the beauty of a man offering himself, all the more so if the man is not a man. For a high ranked incubus, this is a position San is fairly familiar with.

San’s beautiful; toned muscles and thin legs. San whines. The wooden table is cold against his skin, and the shirt that still clings to his smaller shoulders is not doing an excellent job at concealing his body.

“Already gone pet?” Yunho asks with a malicious smile.

“N-No,” San moans, hardly convincing anyone with how breathless he sounds. His hand is furiously fisting his pretty, pink cock. He’s beautiful, Yunho provides again. It suits him to be there, undressed and legs shivering on the religious grounds. It’s like a reproduction of those sculptures of pious women, whose voluptuous bodies are barely veiled by a white cloth. There’s nothing holy in San, that much is obvious in a glance.

It suits him nonetheless.

“Fucking whore.” San flushes at the insult, humiliation running down his veins in thick waves.

Yunho turns his attention back to his captive, unbothered. “Ah, you’re still here.”

The demon hisses, trashing his body around as much as possible in his bounds. “I’m fuckin’ tied up you dumb human, what do you mean _I’m still here_?”

“Don’t swear,” the priest admonishes. “It’s a holy place.”

The demon laughs hysterically. “Fuck you, you and your _Holier Than Thou_ bullshit, you fake priest.”

Yunho squints his eyes, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt. “Fake?” He loosens the roman collar, cracking his neck.

With his back turned from the real show, he’s unable to see what San’s doings. But the moans and wet rustling is enough to draw the picture. Yunho flashes a playful smile. The incubus’ always had an obsession with his hands. God is charitable and rich in bounty, and Yunho happily applies his values.

“Fake?” He repeats. “I do have a valid licence to practice, mind you.”

“Does a real priest murder?”

Yunho takes a small object out of his pocket. The demon’s jaw tenses at the gold crucifix.

“Well, that’s a good point,” the man cleans the object meticulously, movements precise and practical. “Priests do not murder people.”

He hovers above the demon’s body, eyeing the creature up and down. It looks human – beside the red eyes, the sharp fangs, and the prominent blue veins. Every colour is electric with demons, Yunho has come to notice.

“But you’re not people, are you?” He says mockingly. “And I’m not just an priest, am I pet?”

San hums, his strokes now slower, thumb dragging along the sensitive head. “No, master.”

“That’s right. I’m what your kind fears.”

“Fear? We fear nothing – especially not you fake priest and your fake God–”

Abruptly, Yunho strikes. He stabs the wrist with the sharp end of the crucifix. Further blood drops down damaged bone. Yunho watches the liquid drip until it reaches the carpet in satisfaction.

The demon screeches, sharp nails digging into the wood material of the chair.

San giggles, legs trembling in anticipation. “Fuckin’ Hell, Yunho.”

“Don’t speak his name.” Yunho says calmly. He rips out the crucifix out of the bone. He professionally ignores the scream it generates. “Vermin do not have the privilege to say his name.”

“I’ll kill you.” The demon threatens, blood tainting his sharp fangs. “I’ll rip your head, and shag it in front of your pet,” he spats, furious eyes finding San’s shivering silhouette.

“Then I’ll kill him too.”

Yunho stares. Dangerously quiet.

The demon’s cocky enough to stare back in a challenge. It earns him a condescending sneer.

“You, demons, never conscious of when to shut up.”

He grabs the creature’s hair, harshly pulling the head back in order to expose the veiny throat. The demon attempts to bite him, but the hold of his hair is solid. Yunho glances over his shoulder up to San’s flushed face, unimpressed by the large fangs near his face.

“Heard that pet? He says he wants to kill us.”

San cooes, rolling his body on the side to rest on his elbow. The shirt doesn’t let anything up to imagination. From the glittering liquid on his stomach, Yunho can tell he came once already.

“Kill him.” The pretty incubus says without hesitation.

“Gladly, pet.”

The captive gapes. “You traitor, I should kill you first–”

“–But _first_ ,” Yunho cuts. “Repeat after me.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s not what I said.” He says disapprovingly.

To match his words, the priest runs the sharp jewellery along the throat. The gold, purified object burns the skin with the power of acid and blood flows, like Yunho’s trying to fill up the holy chalice with the Christ’s blood.

“Oh yes,” San gasps, a finger crippling dangerously near his rim.

The air is heavier, a sign the incubus’ started feeding on the pheromones.

“Repeat after me.” He orders once more. “Blessed are the wicked,” he taunts.

The demon roars and the crucifix is pushed deeper. Yunho hopes it cuts the trachea.

“Blessed are the wicked.” He chants.

_“Ble–Blessed are the w-wicked,”_ the demon suffocates, each utterance coupled with a cough of blood.

Yunho feels himself hardening in his tight trousers. It never fails to arouse him; especially when they struggle to say it.

“Who are healed by my hands.” He finishes.

The vermin hesitates. A second too long for his taste. He pushes the crucifix an inch deeper; as if it were a blade. For demons, it is, in a way. The thought has him chuckling.

_“Who are healed by my hands.”_

Yunho smile, genuine and _frightening_ ; all teeth and gums and then, when the demon gulps one more thick mouthful of blood, he slices his throat in one practiced move. Long, knobby fingers spasms on last time; pulling on the chair in a vain act of despair.

“Pathetic,” he states. And he was right. He did manage to cut the trachea–how satisfying.

The shirt’s ruined with blood. It’s a shame, it was recently bought. At least the collar’s still clean.

Yunho straightens himself up, now facing the incubus. He’s not surprised to see the pretty boy has started to rub his nipples on the wood. He strides towards the creature, slow and predatory. The tent in his pants is impossible to ignore and San’s hungry gaze is set on him.

San is seized by a volatile thought; that men like Yunho do not walk, they stride. He isn’t sure it’s worth-mentioning for the human, if it’s even an interesting human point, so he does not. He awaits. Like the good pet he is.

The priest steps closer to the table, where the sole source of light beams. The moonlight streams through the stained glass window, reflecting upon the silver jewellery. It conjures up the illusion that the sole light in the room emanates from Yunho. It is merely that, an illusion.

If Yunho appears to be the brightest light in a dark room, it's only so he can take it away once hope settles. The worst thing you can do to a mortal is give them hope, Seonghwa told him once. And Seonghwa is an older incubus, hence wiser.

There must a biblical metaphor in there, somehow, but San’s too dumb to catch it.

His fellow demons would probably agree – dumb enough to become a human’s bitch.

San thinks they haven’t seen the potential in human. There’s a magnetic pull within the man, it’s dark and twisted. Everything San loves – it makes the pheromones tastier and more fulfilling.

Yunho also has a huge cock, but that’s beyond the point.

He would've made a great demon, San concludes. Then again, he supposes he is in his own ways. Yunho’s this green earth own vermin; exemplary priest by day and dreadful exorcist by night.

Incubus owner in the remaining hours in between.

Yunho cocks his head, indicating incubus to settle into a proper position. San complies, drool in the corner of his lip at the treat awaiting him. He turns on his back again. He slides his body closer to the edge, head hanging in the air and throat stretched out. A position akin to that of the demon in the chair over there. But San has absolute faith (an easy word to throw in a church) that the fate that befalls him will be quite different from that.

“Open,” his voice is sweet and thick, San wants to eat it up.

He obeys and sticks out his tongue–he’s going _crazy_ , the church is freezing in the middle of the night yet his body’s on fire and trembling. Nails trail the red spots on the stuck out tongue, digging deep crescent shapes.

Yunho’s fast and practical; the second his cock, he’s presenting it and rubbing it against the plum lips. San mewls, a loud moan seizing his entire body. It echoes and it’s so unholy lewd. Yunho’s cock is perfect. Big, thick, veiny and so _so_ hard for him.

San’s never missed a meal since that cock is his to suck dry.

Yunho pushes his cock into his mouth and his lips are stretched so far wide. San loves it. He loves it all – the pain, the aching jaw, the oxygen running out. The sweat and pre-cum goes straight to his stomach. San moans like a whore, the energy making his lust go crazy.

Alike God, Yunho’s merciful to mankind. San’s not human, so he doesn’t bother to set a steady rhythm.

Yunho thrusts his mouth harshly, like he’s got a vendetta to fulfil. San’s barely had a second to suck in a mouthful or air before the back of his throat spasms. His eyes water at the assault.

San gags at the harsh thrust. He glances up at: he must be an arousing sight, face humid sweat, tears and dried cum. He knows the messier he looks, the rougher Yunho becomes. San loves bruises. They never last―they physically cannot last, a side-effect of having demonic blood, but the priest never backs down before a challenge.

Yunho’s roars are strained but his hips speed up, a hand pressing on the sex demon’s windpipe. The moves around, the pressure applied not strong enough to choke him. The up and down movements leave San’s bewildered for a second. The corner of his mouth stretch wider still, it ticks.

Yunho’s stroking the bulge in his throat. Yunho’s stroking himself through San’s throat. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ , this dick hardens at the realisation. It’s so filthy and the arousing smell tastes so good.

San moans around the thickness in his mouth, the taste of pre-cum hitting the roof of his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s right pet,” He groans, “Take it and eat it.”

His ribs expand, and San lets his tongue expand. Yunho loves when he does that. He lets the inhumanly tongue encircles the entire shaft. The hand fisting his throat now moves to a firm grip on his hair. San sucks eagerly, making the priest hiss and snap his hips. Hard.

Yunho yanks San’s head back deep, deeper. San’s not human, he doesn’t need air to begin with. But it still hurts, the tears burning his eyes, his throat beaten and abused.

Yunho’s glad demons like San can still feel pain.

His thrusts are fast and relentless, the table is moving with the movements of his hips, San’s head knocking against the wood. His entire body, little precious thing, is all pink and bent, squirming like a cornered animal. The sight alone does it, and Yunho cums right there. He presses down unnecessarily hard on the incubus’ skull, ensuring he swallows all of it.

He pulls out, a gurgling noise emerging from San’s throat. There’s a milky white streak dripping down his chin onto the concrete floor.

“That’s my whore,” Yunho says in a mocking grin. “Eating what I give you.”

“Always,” San pants. “Eat al’ you giv’ me master!” He licks the drop of cum on the sensitive head, not wasting a drop. “All for master.”

“All, you say?” Yunho tilts his head.

San nods, shaking his ass in eagerness. He rolls his body so he’s set on his hands and knees; the message crystal clear. Yunho eyes him pensively.

“Didn’t you come before I got to touch you?”

San’s smile fades, whimpering. “M’ sorry, it was so hot, I couldn’t help myself…”

There’s a silence, then a sound of rustling. San blinks dumbly when the bloody gold crucifix on the table in front of him.

Huh. Alright. San glances, puzzled.

“Don’t move.”

San nods, confused but intrigued. Yunho walks along the table, making his way behind him. San’s ears turn red when two large hands pull his cheeks apart.

Yunho inserts a digit, then a second. San squirms at the touch, ass bouncing back on the man's hand. The fingers are long and hit just right. With the intended purpose to better position himself, Yunho grabs the back of his thigh with his free hand. It allows the priest to reach deeper and San's growing orgasm seizes up so violently his elbow buckle.

His breathing turns ragged at the third finger. It's slippery, incubus producing their own body fluid and the squishing sounds are making him delirious. San's long past the point of begging. He clenches, and San's certain his hole would be gaping if it wasn't filled up.

“Lick it.” Yunho says, leaving no room for discussion.

San holds his upper body with his core, glancing at the priest over his shoulder. “What?”

“The necklace.”

San stares.

“I’m sorry?”

San turns his attention to the crucifix on the table – the moonlight reflecting on the gold like it’s jeering at him. The blood’s not even dry.

Yunho interjects. “You said you’d eat everything.”

The incubus’ face turns a deep crimson, lips wet and puffy from the abuse. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly.

“Then be a doll and lick it clean.”

“But,” He tries, on the verge of tears. “It’s going to burn.”

“Why would I care?” Yunho replies, a mix of disinterest and disappointment.

He succumbs, opening his mouth with a pathetic sob. His tongue swirls around the crucifix – it tastes like blood and it burns. Steams arise in his mouth, it’s so painful and humiliating his stomach seize up. He’s crying human-like tears, and everything is _burning._

“I said,” He punctuates each word with a twist of his fingers, “Lick it clean.”

Yunho fucks his so hard with his fingers, so deep and so fucking good his knees give out. He falls flat on the unsteady table, the flushed head of his cock pressed again the wood. The pressure of the crucifix is overwhelming in his mouth, San has to sink his teeth into the gold material to conceal a scream.

This is going to last for days, the shape of the crucifix on his tongue.

San twitches and throb in Yunho’s fierce grasp.

He fucks him rough, fucks him good like he likes it. Yunho’s feeding his lust, sending him over the edge and bringing him back over and over, and it’s only three fucking fingers.

San slurps one last kitten lick on the cross, the disgusting taste of metal lingering on his tongue. But it’s clean, and he turns his head to say just that, to show his master his accomplishment. To make him proud.

Yunho’s smiling when he faces him. It’s a sick, twisted grin that makes him feel like home.

“What do you say?”

The fear drives him closer and closer to his orgasm, cock leaking already.

“Ah, f-fuck, Yun–”

Yunho laughs darkly. “You know better than to call me that. Do you call God’s name? You can’t, so why should you call mine?”

San’s trembling, tears troubling his vision. “M’ sorry.”

“That ain’t enough.”

Yunho’s fingers grip tighter inside of him and _twist_ , it’s painful and making his toes curl. Without warning, Yunho lifts his hand, making his bottom rise from the ground like he’s as light as a feather.

“M’ sorry, m’ sorry, too much, too much!”

The pressure’s overwhelming and San screams. Yunho’s thumb presses right on his prostate and his legs keep trashing around. He cums, once, twice. And then, Yunho jerks his body again, fucking his fingers hand inside him and when he cums a third time, it’s not just cum. The humiliation cuts deep.

“Say it, Sannie.” Yunho threatens.

“Blessed are the wicked,” he wails, spine bent like a twig, “who are healed by _your_ hand.”

Yunho lets go.

San cums a fourth time. The stimulation is too much – he’s too sensitive, shaking from head to toe. San’s high on adrenaline, the pheromones clouding his judgement. He feels like he’s ate for a decade. That’s why he can never leave Yunho.

Yunho wipes his hand with the dry blood on his pants, humming in appreciation.

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

There’s a demonic essence in the pheromones Yunho emits. It’s exhilarating and addictive. It’s a blessing. San doesn’t believe in God, but it sounds like one.

Yunho guides the head of his cock around the red, puffy rim. San tenses.

“Now, how about I get my release, huh?”

Yunho grins, the corner of his mouth so sharp and oddly angular San almost forgets who the real demon is. 

The wickedness within Yunho is solely for the wicked to see. 


End file.
